Whistle
by Caroline Urbina
A world
Silent.
​​
A silky blue sky
but not an eye on it.
When was the last time clouds
dancing in the sky were adored.
The wind blows and rushes
through fingertips.
Tingling the very senses
that echoes through empty playgrounds.
The assumption is people
still laugh but it’s not as public.
Roaring glee that once
painted a scene, now leaves a virgin canvas.
Faces glued to the floor
like puppets with ripped strings.
Voices so hushed
the simple ring from lips
deafening.
A single earsplitting blare shattering
glass but not digital dependence.
The trends of yesterday remain for the
bloodied ears of the obsessed.
A desolate world of a detached population
societal acceptance for digital manipulation.
Lost in a void of blue
dimming the light of youth.
Humanity, sold for online validation.
A whistle, but not a soul found listening.
Caroline Urbina is a graduate student earning her Master of Arts in English with an emphasis on Creative Writing and an aspiring narrative fiction and poetry writer. She is the current Lead Social Media Editor for the Northridge Review. Her work appeared in The Scarlet Review’s first issue with two featured poems. She plans to pursue a Master of Fine Arts degree beginning
Fall 2025. Follow her work on Instagram @irl.caroline and on twitter @IRLCaroline